My Shattered Darling
by PrincessDaydream77
Summary: My first King's Speech fic. When she leaps in front of Bertie to save him from an assassination attempt, Elizabeth is left fighting for her survival. How will Bertie cope with fulfilling his duties as a king, a husband and a father alone? Inspired by a fic by ingrid-matthews. Also my first beta read story, thanks Bellatrix Nellie Le-Lovett.
1. Assassination Attempt

My Shattered Darling

Summary: Okay, this is my first King's Speech fic. I read a really good story about Elizabeth getting pneumonia and that inspired me to watch the King's Speech. I loved it, so that is why I'm writing this story. It is set just after the end of the movie. Dedicated to ingrid-matthews, the author of that brilliant story and to my amazing beta, Bellatrix Nellie Le-Lovett. Thank you so much, both of you!

Disclaimer: I don't own the King's Speech. The characters belong to the Royal Family of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth, and to their portrayers in the movie. The events belong to British history and the movie belongs to the Weinstein Company.

Chapter One

'_I was right_' thought Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth, as she strolled arm in arm through the grounds of the grand royal palace that she called her home with her husband, King George VI.

"Well, I must say your speech was brilliant, Bertie. Barely a trace of a stammer. When you began, I could hardly believe it was the same man I married all those years ago. Lionel Logue has done you the world of good."

"I know you, my darling, and this is purely your w-way of stating that you were right." sighed the King, looking over at his wife and cupping her cheek with his palm, smiling at her.

"You see what I mean? You're almost there, Bertie, you just need a few more sessions with Lionel and you're cured."

"Yes. I suppose so, though I think I shall remain friends with him."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, darling; he saved the future of your country. You obviously have a bond with him and that can't be broken, not by anyone."

"Yes, he saved my livelihood, maybe even my country, but it was you that saved my life. I couldn't have done it without you, Liza, darling, I really couldn't."

"Oh, what have I ever done for this country?" asked Liza, her tone half way between questioning and exasperated.

"You are the people's Queen, the mother of the future Queen. You are my w-wife and the people respect you, not only for that, but for being who you are."

"Technically, I am Queen consort."

"Technically, you are the most beautiful woman…I have ever seen." interrupted the King, wrapping her arms further around his wife and kissing relentlessly, her laughing all the while, just as they had in the car all those years previously. They strolled out very far away from the gravel walking path, doing this, blissfully unaware of where their journey was leading them and only realising that they had done so when they almost went flying face first into the iron gates surrounding the palace.

"Blimey, that was a close one!" laughed Elizabeth, turning them both around to head back towards the path.

"I am afraid we got a little carried away there, Liza."

"Just a little, yes." laughed the Queen, causing her husband to stop and smile at her.

"Bertie, what are you smiling at?" she questioned.

"You. During the past fifteen years, you laughed around four times. Now you've equalled that total in a mere few minutes. You are a wonder, Ma'am!" ended the King, mock bowing so far that his face almost collided with the gravel.

"Why, thank you, sir!" laughed the Queen, curtseyed so low that she lost her balance altogether and would have toppled to the ground had her husband not been quick enough to catch her around the waist, pulling her to her feet once more. They then proceeded to walk separately for a while, though judging by the proximity to each other that the couple had just shared, the few feets separation was equal to total isolation, were it not for the small smiles they threw at each other every few passing moments. The pair appeared to be drifting in their own separate worlds, but Elizabeth was brought back down to earth with rather a large bump. She thought that she had heard a click, soft though it was it was definitely there. She turned her head just in time to catch sight of a glint of silver. The woman only had a split second to react once she realised what it was. She knew she ought to think about this, to warn her still ignorant husband, but she realised she wouldn't have time. Her legs were moving once her brain had barely comprehended what was happening and she threw herself across the gravel path, leaping in front of her husband and shielding him with her body.

Just as the trigger was pulled.

A/N: Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, I just didn't want to drag it on too much. The next chapters will be longer, I promise. Also, sorry for the cliffhanger. It just came to me and I thought it was pretty much perfect to end the chapter with. Please review so I know how I did!


	2. Futile Apologies

Chapter Two

A/N: Sorry for the wait, my holiday didn't get rid of my writer's block! Again, thanks to my brilliant beta. Check out her stories, they're way better than mine!

Bertie was drifting through his own imagination, his memories, both the good and the bad. He had been reliving his happiest memories, not of a childhood spent in a palace, but of turning his head over his uniformed shoulder to see the most beautiful woman in the world floating down the aisle of Westminster Abbey, her white dress flowing around her. Their brief kiss on the balcony, little Elizabeth, baby Margaret. In fact, thought the bemused King, this was the first time that he had realised it. A small moment at a summer evening's garden party, the wedding, the girls, every single joyful moment within his entire memory was Elizabeth. He smiled to himself for a moment as he thought of this, but then he saw the guards rushing to the metal bars, restraining and somewhat manhandling a man with what seemed to be a strip of thick metal. Then he felt the light weight pressing against his back and that awful, like the well-aimed shot of a rifle.

He turned at the sound, his thoughts still very much on his wife, who was staring distantly at the metal of the gates. He automatically turned her around to face him and wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing the top of her head and holding her flush against him. She held him just as close as he did her, tears dripping down her face and falling onto her husband's chest. Then her grip loosened.

Upon feeling this, Bertie removed his arms from her shoulders and held her by the forearms in front of him. She was far too pale, the blood seemingly gone completely from her face. She was shaking uncontrollably and swaying on her feet. Suddenly, she swayed violently and her legs gave out completely, bringing her tumbling down to the gravel, her husband just barely managing to catch hold of her before her head collided with the jagged path.

For the first time since he had noticed the effect of Lionel Logue's therapy sessions, the King was speechless. His voice wasn't only stammering, it was practically non-existant. He tried for what seemed to be a millennium to find his voice, at last forcing a stammer from his bone-dry throat.

"H-H-HELP ME! P-PLEASE HELP!" he yelled, attracting the attention of the captain of the guards, who came sprinting over as fast as he could, flanked by two juniors coming to the end of their training. As soon as he reached the royal pair, he bent down and started shouting orders at the guards.

"Williams, fetch the King's physician, tell him to come immediately, no exceptions. Jones, down to the control team, check on the captive." The men dispersed and the captain turned to the King.

"Sir, the Queen must be taken straight up to her chambers. The doctor shall be sent up there as soon as he arrives."

"I-I'll t-take her, C-Captain." stammered the King, wrapping one arm around the small of her back and the other under her knees, groaning ever so slowly as he prepared to lift her large weight off the ground, but was surprised to feel that she wasn't very heavy. In fact, he had lifted little Elizabeth into her bed the other night as she had fallen asleep chasing Margaret into her nightdress and he could almost swear that his eldest daughter weighed more than his wife did now, which was extremely worrying.

He half ran into the palace, cursing the many doors that separated the hundreds of rooms within the palace. He eventually reached the chambers that he shared with his wife, barely managing to evade the gaze of a sprinting Margaret.

Kicking open the door to their bedroom, Bertie laid her down on the bed, being careful of the wound on her side, which, even though it was staunched by his hand was still flowing blood liberally, staining the pure white sheets a terrifying shade of crimson. His other hand reached out instinctively for hers, clasping it firmly against his chest and kissing it repeatedly, praying for time to quicken outside of the room.

At long last, seventeen minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, the door to the bedroom flew open and the King's physician strode pacedly through the door, bowing quickly to the King as he entered, then running to the Queen's side. He looked to the King for permission, who nodded his head hurriedly.

"Your Majesty, this part may be disturbing for you. I will have to cut away the dress around the injury and the wound itself will be in plain view. If you wish to, I would advise you to turn your back at this point, sir."

Trusting his physician with his wife's life, albeit slightly less than with his own, as he had on several occasions previously, Bertie obeyed the doctor's advice and reluctantly turned his back on his wife. He instinctively turned his head around several minutes later, when he heard a small subconcious scream of pain exit his wife's lips. As soon as he turned his head, an unescapable gasp escaped his own lips. From his position, with the doctor leaning over to reach his bandages, the source of the bleeding was completely visable. Unbeknownst to him, tears were falling down his face, streaking down onto Elizabeth's porcelain cheeks. He turned his back once more as his physician applied the bandages. Once he had finished, he bowed to the King once more and exited the room. Once he had left, Bertie moved back to the chair beside their bed, stroking his wife's hair once more.

"I'm so, so sorry, darling. This is all my fault. You were only trying to protect me. This should not have happened to you. Please be alright, Liza, I can't live without you. Please do not die, my darling. I need you."


	3. Family Survival

Chapter Three

A/N: I don't own any members of the Bowes-Lyon family, they belong to history/present, and for the purpose of this story, the pneumonia when King George V died didn't happen. Also, thank you to my amazing reviewers, EleKat (x2!), The Scarlet Empress, bigben43 and of course, my brilliant beta, Bellatrix Nellie Le-Lovett.

Five days, ten hours, twelve minutes and thirty-eight seconds had passed and still no change had occurred. Apart from the eight obligatory hours each day he spent running the country as it were, Bertie spent his every waking moment at his wife's side, holding her hand and waiting for the moment when she would awaken and tell him that everything was alright. But the moment never came.

He had also had to deal with his sister-in-law's emotion. Rose, being one of the elder Bowes-Lyon children, was not generally an emotional person, as she had to be strong to deal with her younger brothers, but the sight of her favourite younger sister so still brought floods of tears to her eyes. It took her daughter, Mary, quite a few minutes to calm her. Mary had come to see her aunt as well and was also moved by her condition, but remained strongly composed for the sake of her mother and uncle.

Bertie had even allowed Lillibet and Margaret to come and visit her, as he could no longer hide from them what had happened. Besides, the way that his wife was, he could not deny that they may not have another chance, though he hoped to high heaven that that would not be true. Margaret, after helping her cousin to calm her godmother, had broken her father's heart by asking the question he had dared not ask himself.

"Papa, will Mama get better? Will she be alright again?"

Bertie took a deep breath and bent down in front of Margaret, making certain that Lillibet was right beside her.

"Now, darling, Mama is going to be right as rain. She just needs a little time to get better." soothed Bertie, enveloping both his daughters in a hug. The truth was that, in fact, Bertie wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, his daughters or himself. That night he dismissed the governess and put the girls to bed himself, then he went and sat at his wife's bedside once more, wondering if his words would make her awaken. But no, she remained as still as ever.

One morning at the end of the week, everything changed. And not for the better.

The physician had been called for during the night as the Queen's condition had worsened considerably, meaning that Bertie had recieved no sleep as he had switched between controlling the media coverage of the situation and calming Lillibet and Margaret as they heard of their mother's worsening condition.

At last, in the early hours of the morning, Bertie retreated to his wife, to find the doctor looking over her worriedly.

"Doctor, what has happened?" asked the King, running over to his wife and grasping her hand.

"Sir, I've conducted some tests and I have to say that the results have not come back all together positive."

"Why, what has happened?"

"Well, the wound is healing nicely, but I regret to inform you that the Queen's lungs have become quite congested, which indicates only one thing."

"Pneumonia."


	4. Worries for Mama

Chapter Four

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers, EleKat and Frog1 (cool name by the way!). Also, this is not beta-read, so forgive any mistakes.

Time stopped for the King. He turned to his unconcious wife and his mouth opened wide in shock. He hadn't noticed before, but now it all made sense. His wife had been weak and tired for months, her eyes had lost some of their sparkle in sadness, and she had paled considerably. She never complained, poor soul, and if he did ask, she just simply replied that her duties were draining her. He had never even expected this. It also explained why she was so light to carry after she had saved him, lighter than Elizabeth, barely heavier than little Margaret. How could he have not known?! Tears began to fall uncontrollably from his eyes, streaking down his wife's face as they fell. The doctor bowed out of the room to give the king some privacy.

"My God, Liza, I am so sorry." breathed Bertie, stroking her brunette waves as they fanned around her on the pillow. He did that every morning when he awoke, stroked his wife's hair until she awoke, wrapping her arms around his neck. But she did not. Her eyes remained closed, her hands unmoving. Suddenly, a noise from the door made him start. He turned, prepared to tell the fretting housekeeper that he would stay with Her Majesty for the night, but instead of grey hair and fading green eyes, his gaze was met with brown curls and chestnut eyes.

"Lillibet?" he asked, his eyes straining a little to see his daughter through the darkness. "Darling, why are you awake at this hour?"

"I was worried, Papa, I'm terribly sorry to disturb you." she whispered, turning to return to her bed.

"No, Lillibet, don't be silly. Come here, darling." he beckoned, rising from his seat to embrace his daughter.

"Now, why are you so worried, darling?" he asked, his tone of voice very soft and considerate, his stammer lost in the moment.

"I worry about Margaret a little. She's quite the soldier, but I can see that she is hiding how sad she really is. She doesn't play with her horse any more, or run about the palace, or even ask for a story at night. She just sits with her doll, holding her with barely any interest whatsoever, and when Mrs. Crawford told her that she must go to bed, she went straight away, without a complaint. She won't answer me when I ask, but I know she is worried about Mama. She's so young, she doesn't quite understand what is wrong with her. In truth, neither do I." Lillibet's speech came to an end quietly, while her father looked on sadly.

"Do you want to see Mama?" he asked, stroking his young daughter's cheek.

"Yes please, Papa." whispered the young girl, taking her father's hand and walking in step with him to her mother's bedside. Bertie resumed his position on his chair and pulled Lillibet onto his lap. Her tearful face immediately broke into a sad smile.

"Hello, Mama." said the young princess, reaching for the Queen's hand. "It's me, Lillibet. I'm sorry to be up so late, but I just wanted to see that you were alright, and for you to see that we are as well, although we miss you terribly. Don't worry, I am doing my best to keep Margaret on the straight and narrow, but she desperately wants to see you well again, as do Papa and I. Please get better soon, Mama. I love you very much and Margaret will send her love as well. Goodnight, Mama." she finished, bending down to kiss her mother's cheek before rising from her position on her father's lap, kissing him on the cheek as she went.

"Goodnight, Papa." she whispered, walking tiredly through the door to return to her bed.

"Goodnight, Lillibet." he replied, walking after her, intending to put Lillibet to bed himself, stopping in the midst of the room when he heard a small rustling sound coming from the direction of the large curtains. He sighed and turned in the direction of the sound.

"Margaret?" he called quietly, smiling a little when the small girl appeared.

"I'm sorry, Papa." she apologised quickly, thinking that she was in trouble.

"Come along, Margaret, darling. It's time to be in bed." he said simply, reaching out the hand that wasn't clutching Lillibet's towards his younger daughter. She took it gladly, rubbing her eye with her other hand, before turning back towards the bed.

"Get well soon, Mama."

A/N: Review please. I wrote the majority of this earlier today and it isn't beta-read this time, so please give me feedback.


	5. Fairytale Miracles

Chapter Five

A/N: Thanks to my brilliant reviewers, EleKat and LittleLestrange67. You're both stars!

Bertie was irritable for the majority of each day that he spent running the country, but on that particular one, he was even more so. The man truly hated the idea that every day he spent in his office, looking over files and signing paperwork, was a day that his Liza could completely recover and be back to normal by teatime, while he could not be able to attend the moment to hold her hand. On the other end of the scale, any day she could very well take a turn for the worst. Any day could very well be her last.

As he could do nothing about it, his duties having to come first while the country was so deeply immersed in war, Bertie had made a pact with himself that he would rush home every evening and go straight to her. So that is what he did.

The man walked briskly up the staircase towards the quarters where his family lived, just about managing to restrain himself from taking the carpeted steps two, even three, at a time. He was desperate to see his wife, as he had been detained for almost three hours, sorting out a national crisis with the army fighting in Austria.

He pushed the door of his bedroom open, preparing himself with a sigh to see his pale, unmoving wife lying still on the bed. But that was not what he saw, when he looked towards the white silk sheets of their marriage bed, as that was all that was there. The sheets.

Bertie's heart almost stopped as his mind flew through the possibilities. She could have taken a turn for the worst, as he had feared. She could have been taken to a private hospital for further treatment. She could even be...

'_No!_' he told himself sternly, not willing to allow those kinds of thoughts to run through his mind, not until he knew for sure. Forcing himself not to give in to the panic of his mind, Bertie left the room once more, taking off in the direction of the first place he thought of; his daughters' nursery.

He didn't know why his mind had directed him to that place in particular, there was just something in the depths of his thought processes that told him that the room would lead him somewhere, would lead him closer to discovering where his wife had disappeared to.

As he walked through the last winding corridor to the girls' nursery, he heard a hushed voice from within. More curious than worried, the man gently pushed open the door. Then he paused at the doorway, mouth gaping in shock.

There were his two little girls, perching as usual upon the edge of young Elizabeth's special chair as they listened intently to their bedtime story, beaming at the last page of the time familiar tale. Their horses were resting on the wall beside the door, and their toys were littered across the floor, something that the girls never allowed to happen unless there was just cause for such excitement. Which, as far as Bertie could see, there certainly was.

The cause of the girls' excitement was sitting comfortably in the chair opposite them, with a book of fairytales open across her knees, as the end of the story was revealed to the girls, who had probably heard it one hundred times, yet still they never tired of it.

"And the prince and his princess, Cinderella lived together happily ever after." concluded Liza, his Liza, looking up to see both girls with their heads leant back against the chair. She smiled at this, reaching over to them and tucking a blanket around their shoulders. She would rather do anything than disturb them, not when they were already so peaceful and quiet, and when they had been through so much. Instead, she sat by their side on the chair, stroking their hair and sighing in contentment.

Finally, after five minutes of gazing his wife as she watched over their daughters, Bertie decided he could stand it no longer, and stepped further inside the room.

"Liza?" he asked, feeling a tiny amount of guilt as she started, jumped and turned. But the guilt was short lived, as he saw the look of utter joy on his wife's face, one that was replicated on his own as she walked towards him and collapsed into his arms.

Bertie stiffened in fear for a moment, before he realised that she had melted into his arms out of pure relief, not for any other reason. Knowing this, he held her back, wrapping his arms so tightly around her back that he thought she not be able to breathe until he pulled away, but she did not seem to mind. Anyway, he could not let her go for fear that she would just fade away, for fear that this was just a dream and that he would wake up by her bedside once again.

"I can hardly believe you're here, Liza. It's like a dream that I don't want to wake up from." Bertie admitted to his wife, speaking slightly over her shoulder in his reluctance to let her go.

"Well, you don't need to let me go, Bertie, because I'm not a dream. I'm here, I'm well, and I am not going away again." Liza reasoned with him, stroking his cheek tenderly as she did so. He allowed to do this for a moment, before reaching up his own hand and covering hers with his.

"I know that you won't go away, my darling, because I won't let you. I will never let you be hurt again. I promise you."

With these words and a smile on each of their faces, Bertie and Liza walked hand in hand towards their bedchambers, leaving their two daughters behind, beaming ear to ear in their sleep.

Little did they know, but there was one more smiling person on the scene. In the gardens, a mere twenty feet away from the palace, a figure cast in shadow watched the family's joy, a rifle clutched in their hand. And not at all for the first time.

A/N: Spooky! Please review for me!


	6. All too Familiar

Chapter Six

A/N: Thanks to EleKat and daydreaming87, my brilliant reviewers for the last chapter.

For the first time since the terrible incident, now some two months ago, Elizabeth ventured out into the palace gardens. Before she had come out, she had been more than a little scared, but had overcome the fear very quickly, telling herself sternly that she was being ridiculous.

'_After all_,' Elizabeth had thought. '_There are men out there facing the Jerries, and I am worried about taking a step out into my own garden_._ This is ludicrous_.'

So, the Queen had fetched the girls and walked out into the bright sunlight, smiling widely as the light morning breeze rustled through her hair. It had been so long since she had been outside, long enough that she had almost forgotten how lovely it felt to walk on a lovely spring morning.

The laughter of her two daughters broke the woman's thoughts, as she turned her head to see Margaret turning cartwheels on the lawn, her dress riding right up past her knees as she did so. Lillibet, though she looked sorely tempted to, was not discouraging the girl, instead watching her with a joyous laugh. This was a wonderful thing for the elder Elizabeth to see that the child was not utterly serious for every moment of the day. She was, after all, still so young, and should not be so duty bound at her age. She was just a free spirited child, like any other.

No sooner had the thought of free spirits crossed her mind than a pained scream echoed from across the garden, and Elizabeth turned to see the freest spirit she had ever known, lying in a crumpled heap on the grass. With a tiny gasp, the woman took off down the lawn, kneeling down on the stretch of green as she reached the pair, seemingly not caring that the pastel colour of her dress was being marred by the fresh dew on the grass.

"Oh, Margaret, darling! What have I told you about cartwheeling on the lawn after it has been raining?!" Though her words were relatively strict and lecturing, her tone was not, and it was not long before the stern look on Elizabeth's face, the only stern thing about her, faded away, to be replaced with only a look of concern. "Have you hurt yourself?"

"A little bit, I think." the young girl responded, gently prodding at her ankle. From the look on the child's face as she did so, she had hurt herself a little more than a bit.

"Oh, darling. Come, hold onto me and we'll get you across to the bench on the patio. Come along, darling." Elizabeth instructed with a comforting tone, bringing Margaret up into her arms and carrying her across to the forest green garden bench, though doing so rather awkwardly, due to the slight agitation of her gunshot wound.

"Are you alright, Mama?" Lillibet asked of her mother, a look of concern flashing across her delicate features.

"Perfectly." the woman responded, pushing a stray curl away from the younger girl's face. Sometimes, she felt that she had laid too much responsibility on her firstborn's shoulders, purely by giving the baby her own name to live up to.

"What is happening here, then?" came a sighing voice from the direction of the house. The voice belonged to an exasperated looking Bertie.

"Our little Margaret decided to turn a cartwheel on a water logged lawn. I think she may have twisted her ankle." Elizabeth explained, standing from the bench on which the young child was perched, wincing in pain as her foot was agitated.

"Oh, dear." the man responded, his voice very clearly laced with sympathy as he examined his young daughter's foot. "Well, you see, Margaret, this is why you ought to listen to Mama. She does know what is best for you, and she knows how to stop things like this from happening. So, whenever Mama asks you to do something in the future, you must listen to her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Papa." the girl replied meekly, her head bowed a little to show that she was truly apologetic, with a pouting in expression on her face. Neither of her parents could find it in their hearts not to forgive them, an incredible talent that both girls had acquired over the years, though Elizabeth no longer really used it the technique, as she believed herself too mature to do so, and had little cause to.

"Good. Now, let's all go inside." the man suggested, causing the whole group to stand and begin to return back to the palace, Bertie having picked Margaret up, swinging her around in his arms in an attempt to make her forget about the pain she felt, and Elizabeth holding onto the hand of her namesake daughter.

It was the young Elizabeth that had been the first to notice. She had stopped dead in her tracks, staring out at the trees edging the garden, her eyes wide open in fear and her face as pale as a ghost's.

"Lillibet?" her mother questioned near immediately, as, being the one holding her hand, she had been the first to notice the girl's odd behaviour. "What's the matter, darling?"

"Mama, I saw someone in the bushes. I saw something move. I think there's someone in there." the brunette whispered into the elder's ear.

All at once, memories of the previous two months flooded her mind, flashing before her eyes as she glanced towards the trees. It was happening again.

Barely taking the time to think about it, something she had recently been doing more often than not, the Queen took her daughter's hand and bolted for the door, prompting her husband to do the same.

They had hardly shut the door behind them when a terrifying sound came from the gardens. It was a sound that was familiar to them all, far too much so for Bertie and Elizabeth.

It was the sound of a gunshot.

A/N: Uh oh, once again. I'll try and update soon, so please review!


	7. Confessions in the Twilight

Chapter Seven

A/N: Thanks to daydreaming87 for reviewing.

The evening after the near miss of another assassination attempt, Bertie and Elizabeth lay together in their bed, embraced in each other's arms as a means to remain strong, not only for themselves, but for all of Great Britain, including their fretful daughters.

The girls had taken many hours to become settled, as Lillibet had been so worried about the man she saw amidst the trees and Margaret fussing about the awful pain in her ankle, but they had eventually succumbed to the peace of slumber, something their parents were unfortunately unable to do.

For a reason she could not place her finger on, Elizabeth suddenly felt tears wet her face, flowing from her eyes and blurring her vision. The moment she felt this, she bit down on her lower lip, in an attempt to stop herself from sobbing, as she did not want Bertie to be disturbed. '_He is under enough strain as it was, without adding my silly fears to the mix._' she admonished herself, sighing through her bitten lip. Unfortunately, for all her efforts, her sigh was intercepted by a shivering sob, and the King finally looked down towards his wife, noticing at last his wife's delicate state.

"Liza? What on earth is the matter?" Despite the importance of the situation, the woman could not help but notice that her husband had not stuttered in the phrase, as he had used to do. Lionel Logue must have done him more good that she had expected, even after the broadcast at the beginning of the war.

"It's nothing." she responded, her words being betrayed by the tears brimming in her eyes. Bertie did not buy the façade for one moment.

"Liza? Tell me." the man responded. This time, Elizabeth knew there was no room for arguments. Bertie was a loving man, gentle and kind, but when he used the certain tone of voice he had just done, she knew that there was no chance that she would be able to remain silent.

"I just don't know why they are targeting us, that's all." she told her husband, speaking so quickly that he almost did not catch the majority of the sentence. However, from what he heard, the man had got the gist of it. "I'm just a little scared. Not so much for me, but for the girls, and for you. I don't want to risk any of you being taken away from me."

Bertie, understanding her concerns immediately, wrapped his arms even tighter around his wife, kissing her cheek as he did so. He knew how she felt all too well, as it was how he had felt for the past two months, while he was still unsure whether his love would live or die.

"Elizabeth Angela Marguerite Windsor… I will never let that happen. Not to you, or to the girls. I will protect you, I promise." The words held so much meaning and emotion in them that the woman nearly started sobbing afresh. Luckily, years of being brought up under strict guidelines in her household allowed her to keep the pain under control.

"Thank you. And that you don't even need to ask whether I would do the same, because you know I would do so in a heartbeat." she responded, holding him closer to her, as if to reinforce her promise.

"I know you would." he responded to her, with not a note of lying. After all, there was no cause to do so, so why should he even try to? His wife had always been truthful, with important matters at least, and she would never even consider lying about something concerning their darling daughters.

"Do you think that it will be alright, Bertie?" Elizabeth asked. She hated showing weakness, even if there was cause to do so, because, through after all their struggles with his stammering, she had always been the strong one of their pair. She hated allowing herself to give into the waves of emotion that flooded over her, but sometimes she just had to do so.

"I do think so, yes. I can't say for sure of course, but I do believe that we will come through this. After all, this country has been through worse than this before, as have we personally. We can do this, Elizabeth, I know that we can." Bertie used his best efforts to convince his wife, as he knew that she was very set on what she believed after she was convinced of it. However, she seemed to be listening, and seemed to be very aware of how much he believed in what he said.

"I suppose that you're right." she told him, leaning further into the man's comforting embrace. "We Windsors have been through two wars that spanned all of Europe, one that we are still fighting at this very moment. We can stand strong through something as terrible as this if we have fought through all of that."

Their conversation finished, Bertie and Elizabeth settled back into the pillows of their bed, their shoulders feeling lighter, as they had confessed what was bothering them to each other, sharing the burden of such a dangerous time between them.

"This is how we have survived all these years, you know, Bertie?" Elizabeth told him, after a few minutes of blissful silence. "Not by status, or by wealth, or by notability. Just by staying together, supporting each other. We survive by being a partnership."

"Yes, we do. And this is a partnership I shall trust for all my life, and with my life, for however long that may be." Bertie finished, leaning over to kiss his wife chastely on the lips.

That night, the pair slept peacefully, all worries of the man from the trees gone from their mind as they dreamt of a country not tarnished by war. They had not seen the man hidden behind the wall beneath their bedroom window.

That night, the mysterious figure would strike at their hearts.

A/N: Ominous! Please review!


	8. Stolen in the Night

Chapter Eight

A/N: Thanks to daydreaming87, Twinsfan725 and moran87, my great reviewers. Also, I would just like to mention that I know that this occurrence does not follow fact, but forgive me for that!

When they woke early the following morning, both Elizabeth and Bertie could feel from deep within them that something was not as it should be. Something was wrong.

There seemed to be an air about the palace, an air of fear and anxiety, one that the couple, at this point in time, could not put a finger on. Still, they knew that it was present, and that was terrifying beyond belief.

It took only a dozen minutes at most from the time they had woken for the king and queen to rise from their beds, no longer able to forgo discovering what had happened to make them feel so alarmed. Whatever it was, it could not be something small, and that was another danger that they could not afford to have, not with things in the world as delicately balanced and violent as they were.

Becoming a little more nervous with each second that passed by, the pair acquiesced to split apart from each other, in an attempt to cover ground in the palace quicker. Bertie took the downstairs rooms and the gardens, to see if something had occurred to do with the war, or with Churchill, while Elizabeth took the upstairs, to ascertain whether something had happened to their family, or somewhere within the household. Unfortunately, and to the horror of both parties, it was Elizabeth who found the answer to their question.

Bertie had been ascended a gilded staircase at the forefront of the palace when he had almost been knocked back down it by a running flash of green dress and brunette curls. He was about to protest when he found that the woman who had tumbled into his arms was, in fact, his wife.

"Liza? What's happened? What's the matter" Bertie asked, his words all merging into one another in his haste to discover what had happened. It took Elizabeth a few minutes to gather her bearings enough to be able to answer.

"It's Lillibet." the woman answered, her breathing still quickened and fearful for the girl. This brought the king's own fear to a much higher pitch. "I went upstairs to check on the girls, it was the first thing that I did. Margaret was there, but Lillibet had disappeared in the night. None of the servants know where she is."

By the end of her explanation, Elizabeth had begun to sob, the terror for her namesake child evident in her actions. Although his own fear was just as severe as his wife's, he could see that she needed him, and that was his priority as the moment.

"Oh, Liza." he sighed, kissing the top of the woman's head as tears welled up in his own eyes. His Lillibet, stolen in the night. Whoever had committed such a terrible crime, they could not have had good intentions in mind, as they would not have done so if they had. This terrified the king more than he had believed possible. The only thing that truly mattered to his family, and he was not about to lose his daughter, as he had almost lost his wife.

"What are we to do, Bertie?" she asked, her head rested on the man's chest, when he held her tight to him. "If she's been taken away from us, if she has been hurt…"

"I won't allow that to happen." he assured his wife, cutting her off mid-sentence by pressing two fingers to her lips. "I promise you that I will never allow that to happen, to any of us."

"But what if it has already happened?" she questioned the man, pulling her head abruptly from his chest, her face in a state of confusion, mixed between pain and anger. "You can't change the past, Bertie. If Lillibet has already been hurt, or God forbid even killed, there is nothing even the King of Great Britain can do about it. So, don't make me a promise you may not be able to keep. I won't allow my heart to be broken again."

Much to the surprise of even herself, the woman turned on her heel and began to ascend the grand staircase, leaving her husband alone and aghast in the foyer. He had understood that she would be upset, he had known that the moment she had informed him of the terrible situation, but he had thought that they would stick together in this. Evidently, she had not felt the same, as she would not have run away from him if she had.

'_Perhaps this has finally pushed her too far.'_ the man thought, seeing this to be the only rational explanation for her strange behaviour. '_So much has gone wrong over the past couple of months, there has been so much danger in the world, and now it has struck right at the heart of the family. Our own daughter. If she has been completely taken from us, my Liza will never forgive herself, or forgive me. She will be destroyed.'_

With a sigh, Bertie ascended the staircase, turning, contrary to what his mind told him, to his right. He knew within a heartbeat where he was going, as he visited the room every night. Knowing Liza, she would have also sought refuge in the place.

As he reached the door of the room, the man was not surprised to find that it was open, neither was he surprised that there was a brunette figure sat on the floor, a rag doll embraced tightly in her arms. The woman was acting as if she could not let the toy go, as if she were clinging to it for her own life.

"Do you really think that we will get her back?" Elizabeth asked, her voice cracking with the tears she cried.

"I know that we will." the man sighed, leaning down to wrap his arms around his shaking wife. "So long as we stay together."

A/N: I needed to bring it back to the love at that point. Don't worry, they will stay together. Please review!


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